


Windhelm

by DarkxPrince



Series: Amidst the Shadows [6]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkxPrince/pseuds/DarkxPrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlya makes her first visit to Windhelm, and is completely underwhelmed by what she finds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windhelm

_So, this is Windhelm._ Charlya thought to herself as she and Jenassa walked through the gates.

They were there for a simple guild job … not that Jenassa was aware of the fact it was a Thieves Guild job. Charlya didn’t know the full details of the job she was doing, she would only find out after meeting with the contact here, an elf named Niranye. If only the Guild job was the only reason they came here. Alduin needed to be killed; otherwise the ancient dragon would surely destroy all of Tamriel, yet she couldn’t go after him, not yet anyway. If she was to follow him and end this once and for all, she was going to have to broker a truce between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. Well, at least Elisif the Fair was willing to meet at the peace summit, even if General Tullius was hesitant. Now all she had to do was get Ulfric, leader of the rebellion, to attend as well.

An argument drew her attention to the side, a frown quickly forming beneath her face mask as she listened in. Two Nords were harassing a female Dunmer, “You gray-skins aren’t welcomed here! Taking our food and not even helping out with the war!”

The other Nord quickly added, “Perhaps the reason these gray-skins don’t help is because they’re Imperial Spies.”

“Spies?! You can’t be serious.” The Dunmer woman stated incredulously.

“Maybe we’ll visit you in the dead of night,” the first Nord spoke, “We have ways of finding out what you really are.” With that the two Nords walked away, leaving a frustrated Dunmer woman behind.

Charlya snarled quietly, if not for the mask that covered her mouth her vampire fangs would have flashed in the sun’s light. If Charlya hadn’t already been used to the blatant racism of most Nords, she would have been surprised by the exchange. As it was, it was just another daily occurrence that she – and many of other non-Nords – learned to ignore. Still though, it was frustrating to see regardless and Charlya found it harder to ignore these days. Several years ago Charlya would have easily ignored it all, yet that was before she discovered she was Dovahkiin. Before she discovered it was her destiny to save all of Tamriel. She could kill dragons, bandits, and other creatures … yet how could she kill racism? It was a question she found herself asking more and more these days.

The Dunmer woman who had been harassed turned to face her, “Have you come to torment the Dunmer here as well?!”

The Dunmer vampire merely lowered her hood, revealing her own dark elf features, “No, I know what it’s like to be treated based on one’s race.” What went unsaid was the fact that Charlya not only had experience being treated poorly because she was Dunmer, but also because of the fact that she was a vampire as well. Luckily few people knew how to tell if someone was a vampire without actually seeing them drinking someone’s blood … but it happened before.

“Well,” the other Dunmer woman muttered, “That’s a pleasant change. Then I don’t need to tell you to watch yourself here.” The Dunmer woman crossed her arms over her chest, adding after a moment’s thought, “Well, watch out for Rolff, though. He likes to get drunk and walk around the Gray Quarter yelling insults.” She sighed, running a gloved hand through her raven hair, “It shouldn’t be a consolation that we’re not the only ones who have to put up with this kind of abuse. They treat the Argonians and Khajiit just as poorly as they treat the Dunmer … really if you’re not a Nord then you’re fair game for their bullying.” With that she walked off, presumably headed back to her house.

In her travels, she had never liked the Stormcloaks, many were just simple soldiers following orders but the officers were another story altogether. They were the ones who truly tormented non-Nords … they were the ones who constantly abused everyone else. Charlya rarely drew pleasure from draining people of their blood – and normally she would be as fast as possible – but whenever she ran into a Stormcloak officer abusing his power … she drained them of blood as slowly as she could. The only Stormcloak worse than the officers was the Jarl of this very Hold, Ulfric Stormcloak. Charlya had only had the one encounter with the Stormcloak leader, back at Helgen all those months ago, so she couldn’t say where he stood. Yet his officers continued to abuse their power … that should tell her everything that she needed to know. What kind of leader was Ulfric if he didn’t do anything to stop this abuse? What kind of High King would he be? Would all non-Nords be exiled from Skyrim if he took the throne?

Charlya shook her head, trying to dispel those thoughts; she’d have to worry about all of that later on. Though personally, if she could help it, she’d avoid taking part in the Civil War at all. At the moment she had more important things to worry about than this petty squabble between the mortals … like making sure Alduin didn’t destroy all of Tamriel.  And that’s what bugged her the most, they were more interested in their Civil War and who should rule Skyrim than defeating the ancient dragon that threatened to kill them all. In all truth though, she was no longer surprised by how petty and self-centered mortals could be.  Still, she had a feeling that she would have to pick a side in the Civil War eventually. Luckily, very few people knew about her status as Dovahkiin, yet that was going to change soon. If this peace summit actually worked, then everyone would know about her soon enough, and then both sides would pester her nonstop to join them. Not that they would care about what she personally believed in, all they would care about is having her on their side … and then using that to their advantage. Whether by sending her into battle or just using the fact she joined them to rally their troops. General Tullius and Ulfric weren’t really that different, she supposed, all they wanted was to end the war … and they didn’t care how they did it.

The Dunmer vampire sighed as she walked into the inn located within the Gray Quarter, tossing a small coin purse to the innkeeper and heading up to one of the rooms. Charlya perched herself on the windowsill, resting her arm on her raised knee and stared out what passed as the window. The vampire woman felt her thoughts turn to her traveling companion, Jenassa, as the other Dunmer settled on the bed and proceeded to clean her equipment. She found herself doing that more often, found her thoughts going to the other Dunmer woman. Charlya wasn’t even sure why she was thinking about Jenassa so much. The only reason Charlya had hired the Dunmer mercenary was because Lydia had been injured and needed time to heal. Though, if she was being honest with herself, the vampire woman had gotten used to having someone with her during her adventures and couldn’t bear to be alone anymore. Yet there had been something else there as well, something that Charlya couldn’t place her finger on.

It was weird though, going back to hiding her vampirism from the other woman. She had gotten so used to Lydia not caring that she had almost fed from a bandit in front of Jenassa. Yet why did she care enough to not just feed in front of the other woman? It wasn’t like she had really cared about what other people thought about her. True, she hid her vampirism from everyone, though that was more so that any angry or scared villagers didn’t kill Charlya. So then what made Jenassa so special? Why was she more concerned about what the Dunmer mercenary thought about her? Was she just afraid Jenassa would be like other people … afraid that she would hate her like so many others? That brought her back to the question of why did Charlya care so much? She sighed softly to herself, if only she had the answer to all her questions.

A scream tore her out of her reverie, sharing a brief glance with Jenassa she jumped out the window without a second thought. Charlya rolled as she hit the ground, springing to her feet and running towards where she heard the scream. She came to a stop in front of one of the many crumbling alleys; any mortal would not have been able to see the two figures at the back hidden by the shadows. Yet she was able to see them as clear as day, her glowing orange orbs blazing within the darkness, hissing in anger as she took in the sight before her. There was the same Dunmer woman they had meet when they first entered the city, sprawled across the ground … and there was a Nord looming over her, bloody dagger clutched in his hand. Charlya reacted on instinct, darting forward and wrapping one hand around the Nord’s neck and her other hand gripping his hand. A sharp twist of her wrist wrenched the dagger out of the Nord’s hand; his scream of pain came out as nothing more than a gurgle as she pressed down upon his neck. “Are you alright?” Charlya asked, when the other Dunmer woman nodded Charlya added, “Get home quickly, I’ll take care of this trash.”

When the other woman disappeared around the corner of the alley, Charlya reached out with her vampiric senses, making sure there was no one close by. When the Dunmer Vampire was sure they were completely alone, she turned her attention back to the Nord restrained in her arms. So, what was she going to do with him? Now that Charlya had a moment, she could tell that this was one of the same Nords that had been harassing that other Dunmer when she and Jenassa had first entered Windhelm. Was anyone really going to mess with another beggar? Certainly this piece of filth didn’t deserve to live to torment the Dunmer another day. Plus, she _was_ hungry as she hadn’t been able to feed for a couple of days. Dragging the Nord further into the shadows of the alley, Charlya lowered her face mask and drove her fangs into the Nord’s neck. Normally the vampire would have drained the Nord’s blood as quickly as possible … yet she wasn’t in a merciful mood, and so she took her time. The vampire woman extracted her fangs and dropped the corpse to the ground, taking several steps back. Inhaling deeply she readied her Thu’um, _“Yol … Toor Shul!”_ she Shouted, the dragon’s fire burst from her mouth, incinerating the corpse within seconds.

Leaving the alley before any guards could come and investigate, Charlya headed to meet her contact, raising her face mask and hood back into place. It was a simple matter finding her contact, and the mission itself turned out to be fairly simple. All she had to do was eliminate a rival gang of Altmer thieves who called themselves the “Summerset Shadows.” Apparently they didn’t care if they stole from the living or the dead … and sometimes would kill their marks as well. Having gotten the location of their hideout from her contact, Charlya set out into the mountains. Within minutes she spotted the cave entrance, a guard clearly standing in front of it. The Vampire Dunmer chuckled to herself; it was a wonder this rival gang ever managed to get itself started with such blatant mistakes. The guard hadn’t even realized she was sneaking up on him until her dagger found his throat … and by then it was too late.

Even the guards within the cave proved to be inept, none of them could detect her as she killed them all from the shadows. Really, these amateurs were giving thieves everywhere a bad name and not just because they killed those who they stole from. It didn’t take long to kill all save the leader, though in all honesty using the term was generous as even he hadn’t noticed her until her fangs were piercing his neck. The Altmer screamed as Charlya drained him of his blood, trying desperately to worm his way out of her grip. The Dunmer woman felt her lips twitch as she tightened her grip, her nails digging deeper into his flesh.  Charlya sighed in bliss as she finished draining the Altmer of blood, the lifeless husk crumbling to the ground. With her job completed, the Dunmer woman left the cave and headed back to Windhelm.

Charlya was met with a commotion once she returned to the Hold; seemingly every citizen was running to the cemetery. Charlya released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding; they were running in the opposite direction of where she had drained the Nord of blood. Curiosity got the better of her and she followed the crowd, staying within the shadows so has not to draw any attention. When she arrived at the cemetery with the other townspeople, it seemed as if all who lived there were crowded around. There were already whispers of “Not another killing” circulating among the gathered people, even as several guards tried to disperse the crowd. Charlya frowned beneath her mask, glancing up at the Hold’s Keep, wondering what on Nirn Ulfric was doing. Was Ulfric so consumed with winning the Civil War that he was continuously ignoring the happenings within his own Hold? Both jaw and fist clenched, Charlya turned on her heel, heading for the Keep. It was time to meet with Ulfric.

Ignoring the guards, Charlya marched up to the massive doors of the Keep, summoning a small portion of her vampiric strength, she threw open the doors. Immediately several guards drew their swords and surrounded her. In response, Charlya merely crossed her arms across her chest and stated, “I would speak with the jarl of this Hold.” Her voice was steady and calm, barely above a whisper yet it echoed within the ancient halls.

Drawn by the commotion, Ulfric strode from one of the side rooms. “Who dares demand an audience with me?!”

“I would,” Charlya answered, drawing herself to her full height.

“And who are you? To presume I would speak with you?” Ulfric demanded, a hand resting upon the axe at his side.

“I am Dovahkiin,” Charlya spoke, the power of her Thu’um laced into her words, dust falling around them as the foundations of the Keep shook.

Ulfric laughed, motioning his guards to stand down and return to their posts. Charlya frowned beneath her facemask, was he really that arrogant? “Why should I believe that a Grey Skin such as yourself is the Dragonborn?”

“I don’t give a damn what you believe, _Ulfric_ ,” Charlya spat his name as if it was the vilest curse. “However, the Greybeards are holding a peace council, and you are being summoned.”

“My respect for the Greybeards aside, why should I attend a peace council while my country bleeds?! Why should I attend while the people suffer under foreign rule?!  Why should I attend while sons and daughters are killed for wanting to believe in their own gods?! Why should I attend while the Jarls of Skyrim cower within their halls?!” After several moments of silence, Ulfric added, “But then, I wouldn’t expect a Grey Skin to understand what it’s like to watch your country suffer.”

Beneath her hood, Charlya’s orange orbs burned bright with anger. She appeared in front of Ulfric, grabbing his collar and lifting him into the air. “How dare you!” Charlya hissed, ignoring the guards as they once more drew their swords. “I watched as Morrowind burned beneath the Red Mountain! I watched as fire and ash rained from the heavens! I watched as women and children ran and died while trying to escape! Their screams still haunt me to this day.” Beneath her facemask, Charlya bared her fangs, knowing he wouldn’t see them but not caring. “I watched as my people fled into exile. I watched as they were treated like dirt for merely being a different race.” Charlya threw Ulfric onto his back, growling down at him, “You know nothing of suffering, _Nord_.”

“Very well,” Ulfric muttered as he returned to his feet. “Tell the Greybeards I will attend their peace council,” he ground out the words as if the Daedra themselves were forcing him to go. “Now, leave these halls and never return.” Ulfric drew in a sharp breath, “ _Fus … Ro Dah_!”

Charlya half expected to be blown back by Ulfric’s use of the Dragon Shout, and she had braced herself accordingly. As it was, all that happened was that the hood of her cloak was blown down. Now it was Charlya’s turn to laugh, “That was the power of your Thu’um?! I’m surprised such a weak Voice such as yours was ever able to harm the High King of Skyrim.” With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Jenassa was waiting for her by the entrance to the inn, their equipment all packed and ready. Nodding her head, Charlya shouldered her pack and the two Dunmer women made their way to Windhelm’s main gate. At least none of the Stormcloak guards were chasing them out of the Hold. Not that she would put it past Ulfric to order his troops to forcefully remove her from the city. They were just about to leave through the gates when a small voice spoke up, “Excuse me, miss, would you like to buy a flower?”

Charlya’s first instinct was to ignore the voice and continue on her way, yet something compelled her to look. _By Azura,_ it was a little girl no older than ten, what was she doing out so late at night? The Vampire woman was about to question her when the little girl spoke up again, “Please ma’am, would you like to buy a flower? I need the coin to pay from a room.”

“Where are your parents, little one?” Charlya inquired.

The little girl’s voice stuttered as she answered, “They went off to fight in the Civil War and … and … n-never returned.”

By Azura, was Ulfric so obsessed with winning the war that he continuously turned a blind eye towards the going-ons of his holding? Ulfric continued tp prove to her that perhaps he wasn’t right to be the High King of Skyrim. Charlya frowned beneath her facemask even as she knelt in front of the girl. For the first time in centuries, Charlya was reminded of another little girl. The smiling face of a little Dunmer girl flashed before the vampire’s eyes, a distant voice echoing within her mind _“Mama! Mama!”_ Holding out her hand, the Dunmer vampire said, “How would you like to come with me, little one? You’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

The little girl threw her arms around the older woman, exclaiming, “YES! Thank you! Thank you!”

Charlya easily lifted the little girl into her arms as she returned to her feet. Charlya turned back to Jenassa, the two older women stared a brief look before they headed out of Windhelm. Charlya could have sworn she saw something within the other Dunmer’s eyes. Was it admiration or was it something deeper? Either way, it didn’t matter at the moment. The important thing, was to get the little one she just … adopted, back to her home in Whiterun.


End file.
